


Who Will Save You Now

by leaahwulf (predatoryExcitement)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Foster Care, Homelessness, Modern Setting, Parent Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5301701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/predatoryExcitement/pseuds/leaahwulf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if the characters grew up today? An interpretation of Vox Machina's backgrounds in a modern American setting</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1: Vex & Vax - Hello and Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> I thank every one of you who took the time to read this. This came to me while on a car ride. I'll update as new chapters are written.  
> If any of the Critical Role cast or crew is reading this: Thank you for reading this. You've gotten me through some hard and stressful times. I figured I'd write this as a thanks.

“Come on, Vex!” her twin brother whispered urgently. “We have ten minutes before the maids pass by again.”

“That’s enough time,” she turned, rushing back. This was it. This was the night they were finally escaping the oppressive command of their father, a governor of one state or another. Their father didn’t want them. Never did. He got saddled with his two bastard children when their mother fell ill. So, as to not deal with them, they were sent to a boarding school in London. The twins were very much not appreciative of this. The main thing Vax learned was how to sneak a stink bomb into a teacher’s office while they were grading papers. However, now it was summer, and they were “home” for its duration.

Vax’ildan cursed under his breath as his twin sister Vex’ahlia rushed back off into the house. He waited for a minute. A minute turned into two, which turned into five. Vax hissed under his breath, looking at his watch. The warm night air brushed across the thirteen-year-old’s cheek. He pushed his black hair back out of his face as he was starting to get antsy, waiting for his twin sister. Finally, after nine minutes, Vex came rushing around the corner.

“What was that for?” he growled at her.

“You don’t expect me to leave my jewelry behind, do you? We can sell that shit for good money!” she countered as they started to climb down the rope Vax has set up. Once at the bottom, they crept their way along the edge of the ornate brick house, staying in the shadows so as not to be seen by the grounds keepers. Vax climbed up the stone wall, helping pull Vex up after him when she needed it, which was quite often. Vax was never exceptionally strong, but he could still easily kick his sister’s butt at arm wrestling. The two dropped down the outside of the wall.

They were finally free.

Vex let out a heavy sigh, still trying to catch her breath. “How much money do we have?”

Her brother shrugged. “You’re the one who likes money, Vex. Not me.”

“Oh, shut it, brother,” she stuck her tongue out at him.

He crossed his arms, pouting. “Well, I know I grabbed a couple hundred.”

“A couple hundred?!” Vex blurted. “You know you weren’t supposed to take that much!”

“Quiet down,” he hushed. “And that’s what you said.”

“No, it’s not. I said no more than a hundred.”

Vax shrugged. “Oops.”

She just growled at him. “Let’s get out of here.”

Within a couple hours, the two had set up shop in a back alley of the nearby city. It was nearing two in the morning the next day when they had finally found that little hovel. It was tucked nicely between the back of a large theater and a cluster of stores on the corner. To supplement what they had brought with them, which was meager to say the least, they dug through dumpsters and tore apart wooden pallets, among other things.

“Could you tie this for me?” Vax asked his sister tiredly.

“Tie what?” she looked up at him.

He held up the string hooked onto the tarp and one of the two by fours they scavenged from various dumpsters. “These.”

“Why can’t you?” she questioned.

“Because I don’t feel like it,” he shrugged.

“Excuse me?” Vex’ahlia gave Vax an incredulous look. “You have perfectly capable hands for this.”

Vax stuck his tongue out at her with a vicious smirk. “Just do it before I pass out.”

“I have authority,” Vex crossed her arms. “I am older than you.”

“By, like, twenty minutes!” Vax pouted.

Vex’ahlia stood, giving in and taking the string before tying the tarp up The two then crawled underneath, pulling the make shift bedding up around each other. Vex kissed her brother’s cheek before curling up against her brother’s chest. Vax put his arms around her and pulled the blanket closer before the two fell asleep together for the night.

****

Screaming.

Familiar screaming. Vax’ildan stopped in his tracks, turning away from the dumpster he was about to dig through for food and sellable trinkets. He pulled up his hood to fend off the rain which was starting to fall harder. The twins had been on the streets for about six months and were beginning their first winter on their own. With hopes of finding a warmer place, the two had been slowly been making their way south. When they couldn’t find food or a relatively warm place, they crashed at homeless shelters and bluffed about their age (which they were pretty good at). During this time, both picked up some technique in knife fighting. Vax could have been considered a protégé if knife fighting were actually a thing to be considered one for. The boy pulled out the large knife he kept in the pocket of his jeans and clutched it in his hand. He rushed as quickly as he could towards the all too familiar screaming.

He stopped in his tracks at the sight of some drunken wino pinning his sister to the alley wall trying to take her pants off, her screaming and struggling all the while. It was all Vax could do to not rush up and start stabbing the guy. Of course doing that would be a bad idea; the wino would probably get the upper hand with such an outright attack. The boy, as he was still merely a boy, gripped the knife tightly until his knuckles grew white. Staying as silent as possible, he crept up behind the wino, trying to stay as focused as he could. However, in his focusing to try to stay quiet, he didn’t see the empty can in his way until he had already kicked it. The wino turned away from Vex, focusing instead on the little bastard that interrupted his fun. Half his teeth were rotted and the other half were missing. His flesh was pock-marked and covered in different kinds of blemishes. Vax’ildan gasped in horror, taking a step back.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” the wino hissed. “Ya come to ruin my time?” then he recognized the resemblance between the two, chuckling. “Now son,” he took a step forward. “You can put the knife down. There’s no harm here. I’ll even have fun with ya too, if ya want.”

Vax was about ready to turn tail when his sister growled at the wino, swinging a punch at him and missing. The man glared at her, turning and pinning her against the wall in a choke hold. Seeing this, Vax lunged at the diseased man. His knife sunk into the shoulder of the wino. Letting go of Vex, the man quickly shoved Vax to the ground and knelt over him to start pummeling the boy. He only got in one swing before Vex knocked him off of her brother with a large metal pipe which then flung out of her hands due to inertia. With a growl, Vax got on top of that disgusting man, stabbing him in the gut. The wino’s eyes shot wide open before he let out a guttural scream.

“That’s for my sister, you son of a bitch!” The boy roared, bringing the knife up again. “And so is this!” The knife struck true, cutting open the wino’s throat. Blood rapidly welling up, the wino’s screams died to a disgusting, painful gurgling. “I HOPE YOU ROT FOR ETERNITY IN THE SEVENTH CIRCLE OF HELL!” he punctuated each word with another stab to the dead wino’s body. Vax’s chest heaved with his heavy breathing. He looked over at Vex, who was standing there, staring at her brother in shock.

“Wh-What…” she stammered, staring at the scene in front of her.

“Are you okay?” Vax’ildan asked, standing.

“You just killed someone…” Vex’ahlia was shaking. “You just killed a man.”

“He was trying to hurt you. What was I supposed to do?” he defended himself. However, his own voice shook with shock.

“I’m not saying he didn’t deserve to die, but we could get in trouble. Y-you’re covered in blood!” she took a step back.

Vax looked down at himself. His once blue hoodie was now soaked to look a deep purple. The knife fell from his now trembling hands, clattering to the ground. “Oh shit. Oh shit. What are we going to do?” he looked up at his sister for guidance.

“We need to hide the body,” Vex stated after a few moments.

Vax noded, looking around. His eyes locked on the dumpster that’s in the alley. “There,” he pointed at it.

Vex noded. “That should work.”

It took the two of them a lot of effort and quite a bit of time to finally get the mutilated wino’s body completely under the dumpster. The blood on the ground had already started to wash away. Vax then pulled off his hoodie, tossing it into the dumpster. His t-shirt seemed a bit damp from the blood, but it didn’t show through the black. He picked up his knife and put it in his pocket before he looked up at Vex. “We should find new clothes…”

She noded. “I think there’s a homeless shelter down the street.”

The rain pelted them, starting to come down in what seemed like sheets. Vax held his right arm, groaning in pain every so often. Vex questioned him about being hurt, but his only response was a grunt. The two were soaking wet by the time they had travelled the full mile and a half down the street to the shelter. Vex’s hair had come loose from her braid and turned wavy while Vax’s plastered itself to his forehead and scalp. Both were shaking almost violently with the chills. One of the volunteers almost dropped his mop when he saw the two stumble in. The twins easily lied, saying they were 18 as they were settled in to get a late dinner and a place to rest. In the morning, they each took new clothes, heading back to their things to collect them and move on.


	2. 2: Percy - When All Hell Breaks Loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy's first chapter. Enjoy.

The sparkling sunlight caught dust motes in the air floating to the ground. The lace curtains were pulled to the sides of the windows. A rug was nicely placed in the center of the room over the polished hardwood floors. There was the strong smell of burning.

 

Wait, burning?

 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Percy started batting at his smoking project with whichever one of his nice jackets happened to be the closest. All the while, his youngest sister Cassandra was laughing hysterically. “Pardon my language,” he relaxed once the smoke had died down. “Don’t repeat the things I say.”

 

“It was on fire,” she giggled, her short legs dangling off the side of the table.

 

“Yes, I know it was on fire, Cassandra,” he sighed, running a hand through his chocolatey brown hair.

 

“What does ‘shit’ mean, Percy?” she tilted her head to one side, her brown curly hair falling partially out of its royal blue bow.

 

“It’s a bad word I shouldn’t have said,” Percy told her.

 

Cassandra bounced in her spot. “I’ll just ask my teacher tomorrow!”

 

“Do you want to get in trouble and have your teacher give mommy and daddy a call?” he knelt down in front of her. Cassandra gasped, vigorously shaking her head back and forth, sending her curls flying and the bow falling down to the table. Percy grinned. “Then don’t say it.”

 

“I promise I _never_ will!” she exclaimed.

 

“Good,” he sat back down.

 

And at that point the smoke alarm went off. Percy banged his head on the table a couple times, grumbling, before standing up. “God, everything goes wrong at one point or another in this house, doesn’t it?” he muttered to himself, grabbing a broom on his way out. Once out in the hall, he pulled a chair out and got on it, using the broom handle to reach.

 

“What’s all the ruckus out here for?” Percy heard from behind him. He turned quickly, the chair almost toppling. However, he wasn’t so lucky. The boy fell face first onto the floor, banging his forehead. Groaning, he looked up to see his older brother, Julius.

 

“Oh, nothing,” Percy responded immediately.

 

“Percy’s lighting stuff on fire,” Cassandra giggled, peeking out of Percy’s room. Julius raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

 

“You aren’t supposed to say that!” he hissed at Cassandra, then stood, looking back to his older brother. “Well, umm, you see there wasn’t actually a fire. She thought there was a fire, and I was like, ‘No, I am not lighting fires,’ and-“

 

“Nuh-uh! You told me you were trying to make your own fireworks, and then it accidentally caught on fire too early,” she pouted, then turned her attention to Julius, lifting her arms up so he’d pick her up. “We’re all lucky he didn’t make it go boom.”

 

“Is that so?” he asked, lifting her. “Gosh, you’re getting too big for this. Let’s go tell mommy about this, okay?” he looked at Percy at that last part.

 

“What about daddy?” she questioned.

 

“He’s going to head to Washington to talk with all the other senators about important stuff.”

 

“Oooh! Wanna know what word I heard today!” she tried to bounce in his arms. Percy covered his face with a hand, knowing what she was going to say.

 

“What word?” he asked, barely keeping a hold on her.

 

“Shit.”

 

Julius stopped in his tracks. “Now, where did you hear that?” he asked the young girl concernedly.

 

Cassandra giggled. “Percy.”

 

Julius glared back at Percival before taking them both to their mother. As talks like this almost always go with mothers, it took well over an hour. Among the things stated were that he should know better, there are better things to make with the stuff they buy him than makeshift fireworks, there is no reason to be making fireworks in the first place, how he shouldn’t use such awful language anywhere (especially not around his younger siblings), and that his father, Senator Fredrick de Rolo, was most certainly going to hear about this whole “tinkering incident” upon his return. In the meantime however, he was grounded, yes, grounded, from just about everything. It wasn’t that big of a deal when his phone was taken (it was taken from him on a regular basis), but the fact that he was grounded from all especially flammable, combustible, acidic, or basic materials was as close to a death sentence as one could get for Percival de Rolo without actually killing him. He trudged back to his room to gather all such materials when he heard a shriek. Knowing his siblings, of which there were six, he didn’t think much of it. Once he was at his bedroom though, the sound happened again, and it was clearer.

 

“HELP!”

 

Percy stopped in his tracks. That voice was all too familiar. He’d never heard it scream in such terror before. It was his younger sister, Whitney. He gasped, hoping it was just Oliver tormenting her again as the twins always did. But somehow, he had a sinking feeling in his gut that that just wasn’t the case this time. He darted into his room, rifling through the drawers to look for a weapon of some sort. Screwdrivers, pliers, small wire cutters, washers, screws in an assortment of sizes, a small box of gears, letter opener, engraver, switchblade! That’s what he was looking for. Nearly sliced his finger open, too. His father always told him to never leave blades exposed. With the small switchblade in hand he slowly crept down the stairs to the second floor, holding the switchblade out like a kitchen knife about to be used to chop vegetables. His hand shook as he looked around. The screaming started up again, and it was coming from the floor he was on. Staying on the rugs, he snuck down the hallway, listening intently.

 

“Why does this have to be such a big house? It’s a pain in the ass to track them all down,” he heard a man grumble.

 

“Stop complaining, shithead,” a woman snarled. “We got paid to do a job, so let’s do it.”

 

“Why do the Briarwoods want de Rolo and his family dead?” the man asked.

 

“Why do you think I know? All I _do_ know is that they sabotaged the guy’s plane to DC. It went down about an hour ago. No survivors,” the woman spat.

 

“Well, de Rolo headed the argument for a tax raise on large businesses. Silas and Delilah didn’t like that, so they decided to teach him and e’ryone like him to not fuck with them,” a second man stated. He almost sounded like he was from New York. Or maybe New Jersey? Some east coast city. One of them started heading for the door, so Percy darted into one of the side rooms, hoping to god they had already checked it. The three passed. “This floor is clear,” the second man told the others. “The rest are prob’ly upstairs.”

 

After they disappeared up the stairs, Percival snuck out of the room he was in, hands shaking, mind racing, and heart pounding painfully heavy in his chest. He made his way to the room the trio had been in before. Taking a long, deep breath, he fruitlessly tried to steady himself before entering the room. Inside was a horror he’d never be able to unsee. The ornate white rug was spattered and soaked with too much blood. Two heads of rich brown hair lay dead on said rug, their unseeing, icy blue eyes still open and staring at absolutely nothing. Percy bit back a loud gasp, but couldn’t help but feel tears prick at his eyes at the sight of Whitney and Oliver lying warm yet dead on the floor, their blood still draining from their bodies. Shocked, he fell to his knees, tears starting to stream down his face. He hugged their bodies, getting blood all over his nice shirt. It struck him as ironic yet stupid that he thought of his shirt, but he did. He gripped the switchblade in his hand until he started shaking. As he stood he heard a muffled yell, but for barely a fraction of a second. It was from directly upstairs. Surprisingly calm, he snuck up the stairs, making barely as sound. He heard three more consecutive screams and stopped in his tracks. There was only one other person left in this house, besides any killers. His eyes scanned the landing two or three times before they landed on Cassandra huddled in a corner crying silently. Percy looked around before quickly rushing over to get her, dropping the switchblade in the process.

 

“Shh, Cassie, it’s me,” he whispered almost silently, holding out his hand.

 

“P-Percy?” she looked up, her eyes puffy and red. He held out her arms and she crawled into them. Hefting her up, he started carrying her down stairs. They were about half way down when one of the men came out of a room upstairs.

 

“I can’t believe some little girl left this behind!” he exclaimed. “This is such a pretty little stuffed puppy. It’s a shame it was left behind.”

 

Cassandra gasped, wriggling out of Percy’s grip. He fruitlessly tried to grab for her. She quickly rushed up the stairs, yelling, “Mimi!” Percy’s eyes went wide, turning to see his six year old sister be lifted up by one of the men. She let out a blood curdling scream, tearing at the stuffed dog trying to get it. Percy quickly started backing up, knowing it was too late for her. Police sirens started blaring in the distance.

 

“Ready to sleep?” he heard the man growl at Cassandra before her screams stopped. Percy turned around in time to see the woman rushing at him. Stumbling backwards, he felt something press against his back for a moment before he saw stars and felt wind rushing up from behind (underneath?) him.

 

And then blackness.


	3. If You Want To Get Out Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I've gotten tons of positive feedback! I love you all! I'll update as often as possible, but theater, choir, and being an audio tech are all busy things. I'll write as much as I can. I looooove hearing back from you guys!

“Get up, you dumb fuck.”

 

Grog blinked his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. “Huh?”

 

“Your initiation. Did you forget that it’s your fifteenth birthday today? I wouldn’t be surprised,” his older brother muttered the last part.

 

With a grumble, Grog got himself up and out of his bed, the metal springs and frame groaning under his weight. The blanket was left a curled up mess on the bare mattress. His brother stood before him, arms crossed and impatient. “May I get dressed?” Grog asked.

 

“Whaddaya think? Oh, wait. I forgot that you can’t,” his brother spat, staring down at the fifteen year old. Turning away, Grog picked up a shirt, hoodie, and pair of jeans from the pile. He knew he would have gotten yelled at whether he asked or not. At least he didn’t get punched this time. ‘My brother must be in a good mood today,’ Grog thought to himself. As he pulled a black hoodie over his head, he wondered what he’d have to do for his initiation. Each of his older brothers and sisters had already gone through the process, but all of them were too busy with one thing or another to tell him what happened during theirs. His older sister was a smuggler for drugs and other various items the Goliaths controlled. However, some of the most exciting times for Grog growing up was when one of his older brothers would have to “take care of business.” He’d sit in the car and watch them march up to whatever house it’d be, guns in their hands as they’d break down the door. ‘Just like my GTA game,’ he’d think. And now, hopefully, he’d have his own business to take care.

 

“Did your brain turn off?” his brother snarled, yanking him out of his thoughts. “We need to get to the factory.”

 

The car ride there was unsettlingly quiet. Grog shifted in his seat every few minutes, nerves building. They drove into a long, narrow alley pulling up behind a long abandoned factory. Once the car came to a halt, Grog stepped out of it. For a building in the city, the factory was of prodigious size. Of course, it was also in disrepair, as most of the buildings in that district were. Grog could feel the anxiousness building up in his system in the form of butterflies. His brother led him into the building. As they walked in it, Grog pushed his hood back, his fingers brushing against his shaved head.

 

“This is it?” Grog asked as he was lead into a large room, the ceilings at least 40 feet high, maybe more. Sheets of chip board were held up with two by fours to create make-shift walls. Chain link was used as reinforcements. The room smelt of wood, various drugs, metal, and blood. Lots of blood. The boy couldn’t help but smile at this.

 

“What do you think?” his older brother crossed his arms.

 

“Where’s my initiation?” Grog asked.

 

His brother scoffed. “That impatient, you little shit? Fine. Get ready to have your ass handed to you.” Grabbing Grog’s arm, his brother dragged him through the maze of chipboard. Grog knew not to fight it. Chipboard scratched across the uncovered parts of his skin when they brushed past the walls. Once at the center of the room, Grog finally saw the huge chain link cage that loomed up over their heads. It was all makeshift of course. There were tons of people there, half of which he recognized as members of the Goliaths. The other half of the people were presumably also members. Suddenly, the anxiousness in Grog’s stomach turned to a sour nervousness which made him feel like he was going to see his meager breakfast again. He could see his uncle Kevdak standing tall in the center of the cage. The man glared down at his nephew, his black, tribal-like tattoos almost seeming to shimmer with sweat. A shudder escaped Grog’s lips before he was dragged up to the cage and shoved in. Falling to his knees with an “oomf!” he slowly looked up to face his uncle.

 

“Kevdak…” Grog’s voice wavered slightly as he stood. There was a faint, distant pounding on some door.

 

“Grog,” Kevdak returned, his arms crossed, his gaze stony. “You’re fifteen now.”

 

“Yeah,” Grog replied, not sure what else to say.

 

“You ready for your initiation?”

 

Grog nodded, muscles tensing. When Kevdak stepped out of the way, there stood an old pastor.

 

The boy stopped in his tracks, shocked.

 

****

“NO!” Pike pounded on the half rusted door. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS! LET HIM GO! WILHAND!”   The small girl trembled, tears streaming down her face. “No…. You can’t…” she fell to her knees, her breath coming out as choked sobs. Pike then willed herself to stand, forcing them down. She had to help her uncle Wilhand. Those stupid, stupid, stupid bad guys got him. Her breath starting to steady, she looked around for any sort of way in. About ten feet up, she saw an open window. There was a dumpster and a wooden crate underneath it. The thirteen year old girl shimmied up onto the dumpster with much effort, letting out a grunt. She then moved the crate over so she could climb on top of it to reach in the window. Pulling herself up, she dragged herself through the window, mind still racing. She looked around to see if there was any way down. An assortment of pipes along the wall that used to feed one sort of fluid or another through them created a rickety ladder of sorts to the floor. Pike pulled herself over the window sill and started on her way down.

 

The pipes were rusted and her feet kept slipping on them. About halfway down, one of the pipes crepitated, cracks appearing through the surface. Gasping, Pike barely got a good grip on the pipe she was holding as the cracked one gave under her slight frame. She cringed, feeling the rusty metal left behind scraping her calf. She thanked god she had gotten vaccinated for tetanus. Before she knew it, one of the metal brackets on the pipe she was using to hold herself up gave under her weight. She toppled to the floor, ripping her skirt and landing harshly on her left hip.

 

“I AM NOT KILLING HIM!” Pike heard from far off.

 

“Why not?!” came another voice. She started wandering through the maze of chip board towards the voices.

 

“He’s an old man!” the younger voice countered. There was a loud slapping sound, and then the crash of disturbed chain link.

 

“Get up, you little shit!” the older voice thundered. A shriek of pain pierced through the factory. Pike stopped in her tracks, praying that it wasn’t her uncle. “I said, GET UP!”

 

Another howl of pain filled the factory, reverberating off the walls and ceiling. Pike started sprinting for the center, her golden hair working its way out of her loose pigtails. She came up behind a group of people, and her eyes went wide. Shaking, she slowly backed up, looking for some old machinery to climb up on. No longer caring about how dirty she’d get, she started to climb up some old hunk of metal until she could see the chain link cage. Biting back a shout, her eyes laid themselves upon the trembling form of her uncle inside the cage with a large boy who was laying on the ground, blood spouting from his nose, and an even larger man in a black t-shirt with gold chains hanging from his neck.

 

“Motherfucker,” the large man pulled out an even larger knife, swinging it down at the boy. The boy quickly darted out of the way, but tripped on his own feet, falling onto his back. The large man sunk the knife into his gut, the boy letting out a scream. After the man pulled the knife out, the boy clutched at his abdomen. Then the man turned to Pike’s uncle Wilhand, grabbing him and slashing his throat. Pike covered her mouth before she could scream, wise enough to know not to get caught. Tears started flowing from her eyes again. Soon everyone started to clear out. Within five minutes everyone was gone. Trembling, Pike climbed down from the machine, making her way over to the cage. She pushed the chain link out of the way, walking inside. Kneeling, she felt for her uncle’s pulse. It wasn’t there. Her breath hitched, more tears falling. She wrapped her arms around her uncle.

 

“Are you okay?” she heard a voice wheeze from behind her. She whirled around, eyes finding the large boy who was starting to bleed out. “I- I’m sorry… I didn’t think they’d do that to him…”

 

“You tried at least,” Pike’s voice shook. “Thanks.”

 

“Do you have anything I could tie around this?” the boy pointed to his bleeding gut.

 

Pike took her jacket off. “Will this work?” The boy nodded. She helped tie it around him.

 

“I’d never thought I’d have to kill anyone innocent…” the boy muttered to himself.

 

“You didn’t though… You didn’t kill anyone…?” she looked at him, brushing her hair back out of her face with a bloody hand.

 

“I was s’posed to kill him. It’s why everyone was here.” Pike just gave him a questioning look. “The Goliaths,” he elaborated. “They’re my family. This was gonna be my initiation. Look how well that fucking turned out,” he sighed.

 

“What’s your name?” Pike asked.

 

“Everyone calls me Grog,” Grog shrugged. “You?”

 

“Patricia. My uncle always called me Pike… I never knew why; he just did,” Pike thought aloud.

 

“Pike it is,” the boy grinned. “Umm, not to bother you and your uncle, but I think I might be dying.”

 

“Oh,” Pike stood, pulling out her phone. “Can you walk?”

 

“I think,” Grog groaned, using the chain link to stand himself up. Pike was already calling someone.

 

“Yeah, we’re at the abandoned factory by the harbor. My uncle was killed and my friend got stabbed. We… we need help,” she told whoever was on the phone.

 

“Who was that?”

 

“The police. They’re sending an ambulance.”

 

Grog nodded.


End file.
